The Tie that Binds
by lyannasnow
Summary: Daryl gets stuck with Beth after the prison falls, and neither of them are particularly fond of this arrangement. But he can't leave her on her own, and she needs him in more ways than one. Slowly, their situation brings them closer, until neither is certain where they stand and if life without the other is even feasible. My first fic, so please BE KIND. CAUTION: SEASON 4 SPOILERS.
1. Chapter 1

**The Tie that Binds**

**Author's Note:**

**Okay, so this story had been in the works since halfway through season 3, when I exclaimed (to the annoyance of my mother) that Daryl and Beth were going to become cannon. It may take until the end of season 4… but I KNOW I'm right. I've only begun writing it now, since I wanted to wait until Daryl and Beth's (mostly Beth's…) fate was more concreted in the show. **

**THAT being said, I do have to do the usual disclaimer that I do not own the rights to the television show or the comics, nor do I own the rights to any of the characters that are familiar to you. I'm just here to canonize them in my deliciously depraved mind.**

**Some similarities may crop up between my fanfiction and Riain's 'The Best of Me'. I devoured it in one sitting, and some motifs will crop up throughout. I'm going to do my best to avoid similar structure, names, situations, etc. Anything you read that is in any way similar to her, I'm very content to give her the credit!**

**I'm going with the 18 year old Beth, and a 28 year old Daryl… I'm not sure if Daryl's age is ever explicitly mentioned in the series. That's what fanfiction is though, right? Creative license? Boom.**

**Without further ado—The Tie that Binds**

How long had it been since everything went to hell? Beth had given up on counting the days, because between near daily walker threats and Daryl's insistence that they never stop moving, most days she just forgot to mark it down in her little diary.

It didn't even really count as a diary; just a bundle of paper scraps she'd collected from books during their stay at the prison. She never understood why most books had completely blank pages in them… it seemed a waste.

Beth would sometimes reread entries from her time in the prison, living in stolen peace. It had only been a matter of time before something went wrong.

Enter the Governor, complete with a tank, and an army of men and women he had inexplicably convinced that Rick and the group were the bad guys.

She had a gun put in her hand, waiting for Rick to talk the Governor down, to come to a peaceful resolution.

The image of her daddy's head being severed from his body with Michonne's sword would forever be burned into her brain.

She and Daryl sat against the back of a shallow cave they'd stumbled upon several hours ago, both staring silently into the fire Beth had built a foot underground, so as to not attract walkers.

It had been several nights since they'd burned down the moonshine house, since he'd opened up to her about his life before the world got shot to shit.

"I was thinking," Beth began, needing to break the thick silence between them. Neither had spoken about that night; Beth pretended she had been too drunk to remember anything. She assumed Daryl had done the same.

"What have you been thinking, little girl?" Daryl responded, not taking his eyes off the flame which was heating his boot-covered feet.

"I think we should try for north." At this, Daryl did look up, his expression puzzled.

"Little girl, winter is coming in little less than four months. I've never had the pleasure of experiencing a Northern winter, and I sure as shit don't plan on changing that."

"Look, Daryl, you remember how slow the walkers got last winter, and we're still in Georgia! Imagine how little of a threat they must be up north during the winter." He squinted at her.

"What about Maggie? And Glenn? What about Rick and Carl and Judith?" Beth looked down at her lap. "You just givin' up on them?"

She shook her head and sighed. He didn't understand. She absently rubbed the ugly scars on her wrists, a painful reminder of all the things she'd once had and now lost. Her mother, her brother, her sister, her father, Judith…

"I'm not giving up. I have faith that God will bring us all together again… but it's stupid to keep looking. We need to look out for ourselves." Her voice barely carried over the sound of the wind rustling the leaves on the trees around the cave. "At the very least, we need to find real food, fresh water… clothes that don't reek of blood and sweat would be nice, too."

Daryl smirked. "I agree with you there, little girl."

"Would you quit it with the 'little girl' bullshit? If we're really four months away from winter, I'm halfway to nineteen!" Beth said, her voice hitched. Daryl chuckled.

"Whatever you say, sweetheart." She rolled her eyes. "Go ahead and get some shut eye—I'll keep first watch."

Daryl hadn't been thrilled to have gotten stuck with Beth after the prison was breached. Hell, even Carl would've been more useful than the sheltered little farm girl he was now towing around.

There was nothing he could do about it now; he couldn't in good conscience leave the girl to fend for herself. She wouldn't last an hour on her own. She couldn't hunt, couldn't defend herself, couldn't do hardly anything except sit there and talk.

But her daddy had been murdered right in front of her. She wasn't hard like he was, she had been sheltered. That wasn't her fault. He couldn't just give up on her because she slowed him down (and she did, quite a bit).

Drunk on moonshine, he'd admittedly been meaner than he should have. When he dragged her out of the moonshine house to kill the walker, he'd blown up on her.

Beth hadn't backed down. Instead she came up behind him and hugged him.

Daryl couldn't even remember the last time someone had hugged him.

Carol had, sure, but it was always a side hug, like she was afraid of getting too close to anyone, after Sophia… Besides, he saw Carol as a surrogate mother, even though she couldn't have been more than fifteen years older than he.

With Beth, it was different. He didn't know exactly what he felt for the girl, but after their escapades whilst intoxicated, he sure didn't see her as a child.

He peered over at her, asleep on the dirt floor of the cave. Her face was illuminated by the fire. She looked tense still, her features pinched and worried.

Daryl felt bad for her, and not just because she lost her family. He couldn't imagine he was a very amicable companion.

She shifted over in her sleep, causing her blonde hair to fall over her face. The urge to tuck it behind her ear overcame him like a massive wave. Before he could, however, he heard a groan coming from the cave entrance.

"Sunofa—" he hissed, pulling his knife from his boot to take care of the walker. There seemed to only be one, so Daryl got up and headed toward it. It must have been attracted by the light, and now it had noticed him. It bee lined over to where he was, arms outstretched and growling hungrily.

Daryl easily sidestepped it and buried his knife deep in its decaying skull. As he pulled the blade from its head, he looked at the corpse with disgust. The man was middle aged, probably a business man from the look of his tattered trousers and bloody button up shirt. It must have wandered pretty far, because Daryl didn't know of any big cities closer than Atlanta, which was miles and miles away. They must have been up near Tennessee by now.

After disposing of the walker, he peered around for any others before heading back into the cave. Beth's request to head north wasn't a bad idea, by any stretch. He didn't know why he'd dismissed it so quickly.

Maybe he was scared. After all, he'd never been out of Georgia before.

No, Dixons didn't get scared. He was just being stubborn.

"Alright, fine. We'll head north." he said, mostly to himself as he sat back down beside Beth's sleeping form. "First thing tomorrow, sweetheart."

**Okay, so it's a start. I'm going to try to at least include both POVs in each chapter, but no promises, since it might not work with my story flow. **

**Please review, I'm open to ideas and suggestions, as well as critiques. Thanks!**


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm not sure how often I'll be able to post… school is insane, and my religion classes make me want to pull my hair out and cry. The professor's doctrine is SO OFF, but that's neither here nor there.**

**I've given this fic an M rating, because Daryl and Beth's relationship is so volatile that their first more than platonic encounter is going to be unexpected and intense. Bring on the le sexytimes. But not until I decide they should.**

Even if Daryl had wanted to wake Beth up sometime in the early morning for a watch change, he doubted she'd awaken for anything less extreme than a horde of walkers. He could tell just by the way she slept, dead as a rock, that she needed it.

He could go three days without really needing sleep. Of course, he didn't like stretching himself that thin, but he would if it meant Beth was more alert and able to move quickly.

She woke on her own shortly after sunrise; the morning sun that made it through the trees into the cave must have blinded her. It was good to know which way was east, at the very least. Daryl had smothered the fire just before the sky had begun to get light, and was heating a can of beans in the still smoldering embers.

"We're headin' north," he said gruffly as a 'good morning'. "We gotta get the right supplies, an' a vehicle. Can't go another day without one." He felt something in his chest twinge when she smiled at him, a silent thank you reverberating between them.

A short while later, they were northbound, looking for a home to pick through. Daryl had given Beth the knife from his boot when they left out the cave, and she'd only had to use it once so far. The walkers in this area were few and far between, but they didn't dare lower their guard, especially when Beth pointed to one house in particular, which looked as though it hadn't ever even been touched.

"There could be anything inside, so just stay behind me an' keep the knife ready." Beth nodded in agreement, feeling her heart beat wildly in anticipation. They jogged up onto the porch, and Daryl jigged the doorknob. He was about to kick it in when Beth protested.

"Don't go gettin' that way, little girl," he warned but she shook her head and bent down. Beside the welcome mat was a potted plant with stones lining the dried out soil. She picked up the second largest of the rocks and lo and behold, it unhinged to reveal a spare key.

"Daddy used to keep one of these around, for when Maggie and I got outta school and he was at work. We forgot our keys a lot…" she admitted sheepishly. Daryl took the key and unlocked the door. He jiggled the knob again and it clicked open softly. Letting it swing open on its own accord, they cautiously entered the mudroom, waiting.

There didn't seem to be an immediate threat; the house appeared to be just as untouched inside as out. Whoever had lived before apparently had had money, because the furnishings on the ground floor looked expensive. Perhaps they had been on a vacation when it all happened, somewhere exotic, and just never made it home?

Beth had wandered into the kitchen, so Daryl followed; his stomach was rumbling. State of the art appliances, by the look of it. The room gave off a faint eggy smell, though. This gave Daryl an idea.

"You check the pantry and cabinets for food and useful things, I'll be right back." he said, turning on the heel of his boot and heading off.

"Where are you goin' Daryl?" Beth called after him, but he made no effort to reply. Typical.

Beth rolled her eyes at the redneck and began doing as he asked.

She went for the pantry first, careful to check for walkers lurking in the doorway.

"Holy jackpot, Batman," she said to herself. It was the most glorious thing she'd seen since… well, since she found her junior prom dress on sale for 30% the original value. Which, now that Beth thought on it, made her feel pretty pathetic.

Beth immediately began transporting cans upon cans of vegetables and preserves and sauces onto the marble countertops in the kitchen. There were all sorts of things that were still good. Hell, even some of the expired stuff could still be eaten. Everything had enough preservatives in it to last a decade, despite what it said on the label.

After she'd picked through the pantry, she wandered back into the mudroom, and opened the closet door. Fur coats. High heeled pumps. Wool jackets well preserved in plastic. These people must have been rolling in money. She did manage to find a couple of men's leather jackets in the very back of the closet. They were retro, but Daryl might appreciate them. Beth, on the other hand? Beth wanted something puffy and full of goose feather down.

As she went back into the kitchen to take inventory of everything she had laid on the counter, she heard something bang and a shout, and it seemed to have come from downstairs. Knife in hand, she made her way to the basement door in the main hallway, which had been left open.

"Daryl?" she called down meekly.

"Get another flashlight out of the bag and come down here!" he replied gruffly. Another bang, and then an uttered curse word that she had no business hearing.

Beth found the second flashlight and headed downstairs, with some trepidation. She turned it on and pointed it at the sound of the commotion, to see Daryl, wrench in hand, peering at what seemed to be a

"Generator, for personal home electricity. Cuts back on taxes and makes the well water not smell so bad," Daryl explained, noticing Beth's confused face.

"So why are you working on it?" she asked, still not understanding.

"If I can get it working again, then there will be running water." Beth couldn't help it, she squealed in delight.

"Shower!" she exclaimed happily.

"I don't know how long it's been off like this, it might not be fixable." he reminded her. Beth was too happy to care.

"We can have pasta for dinner, Daryl. Pasta! You'll fix it, I know you will." It didn't look damaged to her, so she strode toward it, flashlight pointed at the power switch. "Did you try flipping the switch first?"

"Do you think I'm stupid or somethin'?" he asked, frowning. She pushed the button anyway, and it roared to life. Beth looked at him sheepishly.

"I'm sure you did something to fix it already," she offered. Daryl pushed past her, but not before she noticed a slight reddening of his cheeks. She hadn't meant to embarrass him.

They went back upstairs and checked the lights. They turned on after a minute of warming up. Beth laughed happily and immediately skipped into the bathroom to check the water. Lo and behold, after about two minutes of a dull drown color in the water, it soon ran clear, and even a little warm.

"Shower and then food?" she asked Daryl when he entered the kitchen. He nodded.

"Let's clear the top floor first."

**I have zero clue if what I just described is like, a real thing, but for the purposes of my story, it works. So deal. Haha. I'm not sure when I'm going to really start playing up the Baryl, but it will be sometime in the next four chapters.**

**Reviews are always appreciated; I'm going to try to start posting longer chapters, but usually my flow stops working around the third page on Microsoft Word. **

**A huge thanks to everyone that has favorited/followed this so far. I feel extremely blessed.**


	3. Chapter 3

**I don't usually write this much in this span of time, but I wanted to continue the momentum of my fic. I know that some of my character actions are out of character a little bit, but I really am trying to keep them in character while pushing my plot agenda at the same time.**

**Again, I'm sure this chapter will have some technical inaccuracies, but just bear with me. It's not your typical college freshman girl that knows her way around mechanics…**

Beth couldn't understand how such a prime target home would get overlooked like this. She wasn't complaining; they now had a place to stay for the time being, until they were ready to head north. They still had to decide exactly where they would go, but that could be figured out after they'd had a proper shower.

"Split up or search together?" Beth asked after they'd climbed the carpeted stairs. Beth had insisted they take off their shoes before stepping foot on the pristine carpet.

"Sweetheart, it don' matter anyhow." Daryl had retorted, but Beth stayed firm. Sighing, he conceded.

Now barefoot, Beth smiled at the squishy feeling under her toes. Where the ground floor was definitely built for entertaining and showing off wealth, the top floor was much homier. There were pictures of the family lining the walls. A middle aged husband and wife, two children. The girl looked a few years younger than Beth but around her size. She hoped she had clothes more practical than what she was seeing in the photos.

"Split up; it's too clean here. Don' think there's any walkers." Beth nodded and turned left, while Daryl went right. The first room she entered appeared to be the master bedroom. It had a faint lingering smell of Chanel perfume, and it tinged her nose. The king sized bed was made with neutral colored sheets, and it looked like a cloud. It had a connected en suite, with a spacious shower and Jacuzzi style tub. She couldn't wait to wash the grime off of her body.

After a quick sweep of the rest of her half of the upstairs, she found a linen closet, full of Egyptian cotton sheets, and a guest bedroom. She met Daryl in the hallway.

"Two kids' rooms an' a bathroom. You?"

"Master with a connected bath, a closet, and a guest suite." Beth replied. "We really lucked out…"

"You're tellin' me. We'll stay for a coupla days till we get everything we need to head north."

"Do you want first shower?" she asked, pointing at the master bedroom. He shook his head.

"Nah, you go first. I wanna check out the garage; might be a car or somethin' we can use." Beth nodded and turned on her heel back into the bedroom. As soon as the door shut she began peeling off her sweaty, bloody clothes. It felt wonderful to be so exposed; she hadn't seen her own naked body in what felt like a lifetime.

She looked at herself in the mirror and was almost shocked by what she saw. She could count all of her ribs, and her body was covered in scrapes, scratches, and bruises. Her hip bones jutted out. She had been slight of frame before, but the time spent on the run since the prison fell had made her look almost skeletal. It was unnerving.

She opened the glass door to the shower and turned the water on. It spluttered a bit but eventually began flowing the clear, lukewarm water. Thinking it probably wouldn't get much warmer than it already was, she stepped into it.

The water was cool on her skin, but it was so refreshing that she barely noticed. The generator had done a pretty good job of removing the egg smell from the water, and when she began to shampoo her hair, the bathroom filled with the smell of lilac and honey.

Beth wanted to stay there forever, just floating in a bubble of sweet smelling soap and water that could be likened to rain, but all good things must come to an end. She didn't want to use all the water, so she got to cleaning herself. The loofah was perfect for scrubbing her dirty skin until it was red; the water at her feet was a dingy grey from all the filth. She was even able to shave. Having smooth legs, underarms—and other places—made her feel human again.

She shut off the water and opened the glass door again. Beth reached for the towel. That's when she realized.

She didn't grab one.

"Shoot," she muttered.

Beth figured Daryl was probably still in the garage, so she tiptoed, dripping wet, through the bedroom and into the hallway. She turned and opened the linen closet, pulling a fluffy white towel from the middle shelf.

"Hey what the hell?!" Beth dropped the towel on the ground in surprise and turned around to see none other than Daryl standing there.

"I—I thought you were downstairs!" she exclaimed. He was staring, quite obviously. "Avert your damn eyes!" He seemed to snap out of it and turned quickly around.

"Why ya walkin' around naked, little girl?!" he asked the wall.

"I forgot to grab a towel!" she replied, her voice a little higher than normal. She picked up the towel and wrapped it around her now shivering body. "It's all clear… I'm covered."

Daryl turned around and strode up to her. This caught her off guard, and she backed into the closet.

"W-what are you doing?" she asked. He wordlessly reached around her to grab a towel, his eyes, so blue, locked on hers. Then he was gone, retreated into the bedroom. Beth realized she had been holding her breath. "Stupid," she whispered to herself, walking into the girl's bedroom to find some clean clothes.

Daryl kept trying to convince himself that he hadn't seen anything. Well, he had seen her ass, but that hardly counted.

But then, she turned around. And he didn't look away until she called him out on it. What the hell was that? Who was he kidding? He'd seen everything. The slight curve of her waist that stretched down her hips and thighs, her flat, taut stomach. She was skinny; he could see the outline of every rib, and there was no way hips that jutted out that far was healthy. She needed to eat more. The image of her breasts was burned into his brain.

No. He wasn't going to think about it. He couldn't. She was a child. Well, she was almost nineteen, but he doubted she'd even ever been with a man.

Daryl resolutely put her out of mind. This was neither the time nor place for this. He found some men's shampoo and body wash, and took his shower. It felt refreshing, but he had more important issues on his mind. The garage was void of a vehicle, so they would have to search for another. It would be time consuming and potentially dangerous. Daryl wasn't certain how long they would have to remain at the house, or for how long it could stay secured.

When Daryl left the shower, towel wrapped around his waist loosely, he rifled through the closet of the parents, hoping to find something that wasn't a business suit. Thankfully, he found a pair of jeans and a wife beater that would do the trick for now.

He walked out of the bedroom and smelled tomato sauce wafting upstairs. He looked out the window; the sun was low in the sky. There may be two hours more of daylight. Daryl padded down the stairs and into the kitchen.

Beth was standing over the stove, stirring a pot of what he assumed to be noodles, while a pasta sauce simmered on the other burner.

"Pasta," she reminded him excitedly. "Black beans in the sauce, to make up for the fact we have no meat. Canned green beans on the side, and a can of apple pie filling for dessert." Daryl's stomach growled audibly; it smelled great.

"How long till it's done?" he asked.

"About another five minutes until the noodles are al dente. I'll start on the green beans in a minute."

"We need to figure out a list of everythin we're gonna need, little girl," Daryl said, sitting in a chair he'd scooted up to the counter. "I found a map of the US highways in the boy's room, an' I've pretty much figured out where we are."

"And? Where are we?"

"We're about two miles south of the Kentucky Georgia border. If we keep heading north, we'll eventually hit Ohio. That's our best bet." Beth nodded as she poured the green beans into another saucepan. "We need to find a vehicle. An SUV would be preferable. We should go scouting tomorrow."

"Sounds fine to me. After dinner, let's make that list, and figure out sleeping arrangements." Beth said, stirring the beans. He watched her as she crossed the kitchen and pulled down two china plates from the cabinet. Daryl couldn't help but notice how nice her ass looked in those jeans she found. No, dammit, Daryl, stop it. It's never gonna happen.

They ate in silence.

**Wow, okay. I'm not super sure how that works out… do you guys think it flows okay? PLEASE let me know in your review.**

**HUGE THANKS to everyone that has been following this story; I uploaded the first chapter almost 24 hours ago, and I can't believe how much it has taken off already. :)**


	4. Chapter 4

After Beth cleared the dinner plates away from the table, she brought over a notebook and a pen she'd found in the girl's bedroom.

The girl, as it turned out, had lots of practical clothing. Beth had never seen a closet so big, and a lot of it was unpractical dresses and skirts, but plenty of jeans and vests and cotton blend teeshirts. The best part was the underwear. Lace, satin, cotton, you name it, it was there. She slipped on a pair of black lace panties that made her feel more like a woman than her old cotton brief ever had. Her daddy never would have let her buy anything like this. Beth found a matching bra and hooked it behind her back. The cups were a half size or so smaller than her breasts, but it wasn't very noticeable.

She grabbed a pair of darkwash lowrise jeans that had an expensive label on them, and found them to be just a little loose. Perfect. She knew she had to gain more weight, and then the jeans would fit perfectly. Beth pulled on a long sleeved grey cotton shirt with a boatneck neckline, and an eggplant colored vest filled with goose feather down vest.

Beth felt pretty. Her hair was back to being the light blonde it usually was, and she'd even found a tube of dry mascara that she'd revived with some Visine. The girl had so much perfume sitting on her boudoir, she didn't know which to use. In the end, she opted for the honeysuckle body mist that reminded her of home.

Now she and Daryl were compiling a list of their necessities, as well as taking inventory of what they already have.

Beth had counted over 50 cans of various vegetables, beans, and sauces, as well as Ramen noodles, canned ravioli, and tons of fruit preserves. Daryl could hunt, so they wouldn't be short on meat. They still had the basement to clear out, but they would do that in a few days.

"We still hafta look around this place for winter gear; it looks like they travelled a lot, so there's probably coats around here somewhere." Daryl said, taking a bite of the apple pie filling they were eating.

"I found a couple of leather jackets in the mudroom closet. I put them on the couch—didn't you see them?" Beth asked. Daryl shook his head. "I figured they might not be your style, but you seem to have a thing for leather…" she trailed off, pointing to the leather vest he put on over the wife beater, the one she'd never seen him not wearing.

"Oh, well, uh, thanks." An awkward silence crept in between them. "Tomorrow, before we go out on a run, we should make this place look run down on the outside." Beth agreed. It would deter other survivors from thinking it was useful.

"We ought to siphon fuel, too, right? I thought I saw some canisters for fuel in the basement."

"Not a bad idea, little girl." Daryl conceded, nodding. Beth glared at him.

"Enough with the 'little girl' already! I think we've both established that I am not a girl anymore." She had to smirk when Daryl went red in the face. "You clearly got a good look." she added snarkily.

"I didn' see nothin'!" he argued, standing up. "You ain't no woman!" With that he stormed off into the living room. His voice carried through to her ears. "An' these jackets are ugly as hell!"

"Yeah, deny there's a problem. Then it'll just go away. I'm sure that'll work." Beth said, mostly to herself, shaking her head at Daryl's hot temper. Of all the people she could have been stuck with, it _had _to be Daryl Dixon, redneck extraordinaire.

Daryl didn't understand women. Never had, probably never would. They were like another species. Then again, the only women he had ever really been in contact with were the bimbos Merle would bring home, and the occasional drunken bar lay.

None of them looked like Beth.

Shit, he'd never seen anyone quite like Beth. She was a southern belle in every sense of the word, to the point that it drove Daryl mad with irritation. Sure, she'd gotten a little better with the knife, and had held her own against the walker in the country club, but damn it all if she was still a pain in his ass.

Any time he closed his eyes, all he could see was her naked form, standing in front of him. He felt his manhood twitch at the image.

"Sunofa—" he cursed, putting it out of mind. It was so wrong. She was ten years his junior. Not to mention his hard life had aged his face another ten years… he was far too old for her.

Daryl knew he probably shouldn't have lashed out at her after she joked about him knowing she was a woman, but it ruffled his feathers the wrong way.

She was insufferable.

Needing to clear his head, Daryl laced up his boots, grabbed his crossbow, which had been sitting on the ground in the mudroom, and left the house. He hoped Beth would have enough common sense to lock the door behind him, but it was possible she wouldn't.

The sun had dipped to just below the treeline, and the street was just as deserted as it had been when they emerged from the woods into the development. They weren't clone houses, but it was very clearly a ritzy neighborhood. It made Daryl sick.

He slipped through the trees and back into his hunter mindset. It was several minutes before he encountered a walker; it was an easy kill, it hadn't known Daryl was there until the knife was buried in its skull. As of late, a few of his arrows had been splintering and at the country club, one had finally broken in two. He needed to use them only for animals, or an emergency situation.

He spent a long while in the woods, walking around, killing the stray walker with his knife, and using his bow to string up several squirrels that he had spotted. By the time he noticed his breath in front of his face like a cloud of smoke, several hours had passed and it was far past sundown.

He knelt down and listened to the sounds of the forest, hearing a herd of deer several years away. He wanted to string one up for jerky, and maybe make Beth squeamish with venison.

Daryl decided his best option was to conceal himself up in a tree and wait for his prey to come to him. He didn't have long to wait, as almost immediately a deer crossed his path. Crossbow loaded, he aimed at the largest—a young buck. His antlers still only a foot or so long.

The arrow shot silently through the air and was a dead on kill through the torso. As the buck collapsed, the other deer scattered. Daryl hopped down from his branch and strung the deer up with his bow string. He hoisted it up with minimal difficulty and began to head back to the house.

The walk didn't take much time, and he thankfully encountered no walkers wanting his kill.

The kitchen light was still on. Of course, when he jiggled the doorknob, he found it unlocked.

"Stupid little girl," he muttered, opening the door and shutting then locking it behind him. Daryl took the buck immediately downstairs where the cool temperature would keep it from smelling until he could break it down. He noticed, when he returned upstairs, the buck had bled all over the wife beater. Begrudgingly, he removed it and threw it downstairs, not knowing where else to put it.

Daryl went to shut off the kitchen light and found Beth sitting in the chair, her head resting on folded arms on the table. Their list sat beside her, having been ripped out of the notebook. She'd written something on the next page in the journal.

_I don't understand why he's so mean. I thought things would be different after the moonshine house, but he's gone back to being just as hard and cold as ever… maybe I should try to get him drunk again. Maybe then he'd pluck up the courage to just kiss me already. _

_I'm being stupid. He obviously doesn't feel that way. Otherwise he wouldn't keep calling me a little girl. He thinks I'm a child, still. Just because I didn't just give my virginity to the first person to ask doesn't mean I'm not a woman… I shouldn't have goaded him. I'll apologize in the morning._

Daryl suddenly felt guilty for reading it, because it was clearly a diary entry. He wasn't sure exactly what he should do, so he gingerly hoisted Beth up off the chair and carried her through the house, upstairs, into the master suite.

As he walked up the stairs, he realized he hadn't removed his boots, and was tracking dirt. He didn't know why, but that made him feel even guiltier. Maybe in the morning he'd find some stain remover and…

No. What the hell? She was just a girl with an obsessive compulsive nature. It wasn't like this was a permanent setup, although it sure could pass as one, with some fortification. What was she doing to him?

They were going north. It really was a great idea, the more Daryl thought on it. They could get as close to the Great Lakes as possible without hitting a major city. He'd mapped it all out during dinner, and they decided to head toward the Cleveland area. Beth had mentioned something about learning the winters there were particularly brutal because of the lake effect snow and the freezing wind brought down from western Canada.

Beth was snoring lightly in his arms, and he laid her down on the king sized bed. She had a more serene expression than the night before… she felt safe. Daryl had to admit, he did too. At least, safer than spending the night in an unprotected cave.

He went into the guest bedroom and dropped onto the full sized mattress, feeling the exhaustion in his muscles. Daryl was asleep in minutes, his worries floating into the recess of his mind.

That night, he dreamed of Beth.

**Wowsers. I feel like things are heating up with them a little faster than I'd anticipated writing it, but hey, if that's how my flow is working, who am I to resist? It will still be several more chaoters before your mouths go tart from the lemons, but I promise it'll be the tartest lemon you'll read.**

**Please review; they give me the encouragement to continue writing. For every one of you that reviews, there are like fifty people that don't. That makes me sad, but I know that's how it works here.**

**THANK YOU FOR READING!**


	5. Chapter 5

_Beth was sitting in a field of wildflowers, wearing a sundress with a neckline that dipped low. The sun reflected off her golden tresses, which fell down to just above the swell of her breasts. She was laughing, her blue grey eyes full of life. The lilac and Queen Anne's lace that surrounded her smelled sweet. It was an intoxicating combination for Daryl._

_She noticed him, after what felt like a millennia, and beckoned him closer. He found himself walking toward her, noticing her toned legs and dainty feet crossed in front of her. He sat down beside her and had to smile; her laugh was absolutely infectious._

"_Daryl," she said, her southern drawl sweeter than honey. She reached behind her back, and he heard the zipper descend. He tried to protest, but she silenced him with a finger against his mouth. Beth stood up and let the thin straps of her dress slip off her shoulders, pulling the dress down her slim body. She was left naked as the day she was born. _

_Beth wasn't as endowed as other women he'd slept with, but Daryl had never before seen a more perfect pair of breasts in his entire life. Perky, with dusty rose colored nipples which were pebbled and hard._

_Daryl's eyes moved down her body in appreciation. Her skin was smooth and vibrant, the curvature of her hips alluring as anything he'd ever seen. He felt himself blush as he raked his vision over her most private of places, smooth and sensitive. Untouched._

"_Follow me," her voice ghosted over him, and she turned around gracefully, slowly, and began walking through the flowers. He stood up and obeyed, eyes never leaving the goddess in front of him. Beth turned around again to face him._

_It came out of nowhere, but all at once it was there behind her, sinking its teeth into the fleshy sinew between the throat and shoulder. She was still giggling as Daryl watched in horror as the Governor, now a walker, stained her skin with her blood._

Daryl awoke with a start, a cold sweat having overcome his body. He was shaking, temporarily confused at his surroundings. Where was he?

Oh. The house. Everything that had transpired yesterday had come swarming back to him. He wiped his face on the back of his hand as he calmed down. It was just a dream. It wasn't real. None of it was real. But then he remembered her diary entry, and felt his cheeks flush again.

He was being stupid. Again.

That was when Daryl noticed his morning wood, straining against his pants.

"Shit," he swore, not understanding how such a nightmare could still make him hard. He didn't have the time nor the patience to deal with it, so he resigned himself to the fact that we was probably going to have blue balls.

Daryl got up and exited the guest bedroom. He quietly opened the master bedroom door to check and make sure Beth was indeed still safe. She was on her stomach, hair in her face again.

He treaded lightly downstairs and down into the basement. There was a switch at the base of the stairs; he flipped it on and got to work on the deer. It would provide them enough meat for several weeks. Daryl had always liked venison, but he wasn't sure Beth would feel the same. Food was food though, and it was nourishing enough. He could only handle beans for so long.

After skinning the buck with a clean butcher's knife he found in the kitchen, Daryl began breaking it down. Separating the meat from the fat, slicing strips from the legs and neck for jerky. The whole process took him a couple of hours, until the buck had been reduced to almost nothing but bone, and he had the meat preserving in salt, and the strips hanging up to dry into jerky.

Daryl was just about to head upstairs again to clean up when he heard a scream from the ground floor.

Beth had awoken, warm and comfortable. She wasn't sure what time it was, but it couldn't be much later than sunrise, as the western facing room was still dark. She groaned and stretched, taking full advantage of the massive bed. She didn't remember falling asleep anywhere but the kitchen, so she deduced Daryl had carried her up into the bedroom, and had let her stay in the master suite.

She sat up and swung her legs out of bed, massaging them gently. Her jeans had irritated the backs of her knees slightly, but the uncomfortable feeling soon vanished. Beth went into the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror; her hair was a tangled mess, so she did some light searching and found a brush.

After brushing her hair into submission, it shone silkily. Beth smiled. It felt so nice to be clean, and put together, and not have to sleep on the ground in a cave.

Beth decided to go downstairs and try to make something remotely breakfast-y to eat. She was about to descend the stairs when she saw the muddy footprints on the white carpet. She grew uneasy, and wished she hadn't left her knife downstairs. Slowly, she crept down the stairs. That's when Beth saw the blood on the floor, painting a scene of a struggle in her mind.

So she did what any sensible girl would do. She screamed.

She heard someone stomp up the stairs quickly, and to her shock, it was Daryl. He was covered in blood.

"What in the hell d'you think yer hollerin' about, Beth?!" he exclaimed. "Y'scared me to death!"

"But… but the bootprints… and the blood!" she managed to get out, confused and relieved at the same time.

"Damn, girl, a little bit o'blood don't mean I'm dead! I killed a buck last night; it musta bled on the floor when I brought it in." She jumped off the bottom step and barreled into him, wrapping her arms around his torso. "The hell?"

"I was so worried, Daryl, I thought a walker got you, or somethin' else." Beth didn't even care that he was covered in blood, she was just so relieved that he was alive and well. "I still wouldn't last a day without you."

Daryl snorted in agreement before untangling her from his waist. "I'm gonna go clean up, an' then we gotta get a move on."

Forty minutes later, they were on the street, empty backpacks slung over each of their shoulders.

"We need to clear an' go through at least four of these before dark, an' get a move on with makin' the front of the house look like shit," Daryl reminded Beth for the tenth time.

"I know, Daryl. Let's start with that one." She pointed toward a house whose front lawn was overgrown with weeds, and a couple of dead walkers strewn on the porch. They hopped up onto the porch (the set of stairs had been broken through) and he jiggled the handle. It clicked open, and almost immediately, a walker around Beth's height was snapping its jaws at his arm. Daryl silenced it quickly with his knife, and tossed it onto the porch with the rest of the walkers. It had a rope around its neck.

The pair slowly entered the home; its windows were boarded up, so it was much darker than the house they'd found. Daryl motioned for Beth to turn on the flashlight. When she did, it shone on an otherwise seemingly empty house.

"Clear it top to bottom first, then loot." Daryl said in a definitive, commanding tone. Beth rolled her eyes but nodded, flashlight in one hand, hunting knife in the other.

They padded as quietly as they could up the stairs.

"I don't want to split up this time." she whispered to him. She could tell he saw the fear in her eyes, but he said nothing, just motioned his head in his direction. He probably thought she was completely pathetic and inept.

"Stupid," she whispered to herself, low enough that he didn't hear.

The first room they cleared was a man's room, leading Beth to believe the walker they killed before had once lived in this room. It was mostly clean; the door had been completely shut so nothing had gotten in or out, and thankfully it was clear of dead things.

The next room was a woman's room, probably elderly judging by the amount of floral bedding, wallpaper, and embroidered pillows laying around. Beth assumed he had been living with his mother, perhaps taking care of her? Where was she now? That was when they heard scratching coming from the closet door.

Daryl motioned silently for Beth to stand at the side of the door and open it, leaving him room to kill the old broad.

Beth slowly turned the handle and heard it click. She swung the door open, and that's when it attacked.

Well, it didn't really attack so much as bolt from the room, leaving a foul odor of cat urine behind it. Beth breathed a sigh of relief, while Daryl sneezed.

"Let's get outta here quick," he said. "I'm allergic to cats." It seemed completely ridiculous to Beth that Daryl Dixon, asskicker redneck, could be allergic to anything. She tilted her head back and laughed. Loudly.

Daryl didn't have time to turn red with embarrassment, because they heard the groans of Grandma Walker (**A.N. Lol, get it? Because old people use walkers? Double meaning? Yeah, ok. I'll see myself out**). She was at the base of the stairs, trying feebly to crawl up, to no avail. The old lady probably had a hard time getting around when she was alive, much less reanimated and decaying.

"We'll deal with her later," Daryl said, his tone less of a whisper. Beth too was being less quiet, positive there was nothing else, living or dead, in the house.

Even still, they cautiously checked the remaining rooms of the home, dealing with Grandma Walker on their way downstairs.

The rest of the house indeed was empty, but there wasn't much in the way of food. Beth envisioned a scenario in her head about this particular group of walkers. The man could no longer care for the old woman, because their food supply had all but run out, and the old woman had told him to kill her, let her pass on. Maybe with oxygen shot into the bloodstream. Maybe the man didn't know that caused strokes, and in his anguish hanged himself, or tried to. The weight of the man wasn't supported by the ceiling fan, and he went crashing down, only to see his mother reanimate and begin eating him.

Beth relayed this to Daryl, who looked at her like she was a lunatic.

"Sweetheart, it don't matter how it happened." he informed her gruffly, dumping a package of batteries into his pack. "Ain't gotta imagine fanciful deaths for 'em, just kill 'em and move on."

Beth sulked after that.

They managed to clear two more houses without much issue. It wasn't until the last house that they finally found what they were looking for: an SUV. It was a sleek looking Subaru, manual drive, with 30 miles to the gallon. As luck would have it, the keys were dangling around the neck of the second walker they killed in the house.

"We should see how much fuel it has." Beth said, her mood cheering up some at the prospect of having a vehicle that appeared to be in tip top shape.

"D'you know how to drive a stick?" Daryl asked after they found it had about a half a tank left in it. She nodded.

"Daddy taught Maggie and me on the truck when we were ready to get our learner's permits. It's been a while since I've driven, but it's like riding a bike. It'll come back."

"Good, because I'm gonna need to open the garage door to get this out, and open ours to get it in again."

They loaded the backseat up with their various finds and Beth got into the driver's seat. She was reaching for the seatbelt when she noticed Daryl giving her a look.

"Rule number four, always wear your seat belt," Beth explained.

"The hell does tha' mean?" Daryl asked.

"You've never seen Zombieland? It had Woody Harrelson in it, and Emma Stone?" He continued to give her a blank look. "It was a zombie apocalypse movie. Funny as hell."

"Whatever, let's just get this done so we can destroy the front of the house." Beth rolled her eyes, but backed the SUV out of the garage and then let Daryl in the passenger side.

"Y'know, you're a real buzzkill," she said as they drove the short distance back to their temporary place of residence.

"Blow me," Daryl replied in an annoyed tone. Beth felt her face go red.

**This is one of the longer chapters I've ever written for anything I've done. I have a few more chapters done as well, including the first smutty chapter. You'll have to hit my review quota of 50 before I'll post that chapter, though. I know, life is tough.**

**Hope you're all still enjoying the dynamic I have going on here; I feel more at ease writing in Beth's POV, probably because I too am an 18 year old girl that is in love with Daryl Dixon. Heh.**

**Thanks to all who have reviewed, favorited, and followed my fic. It means a lot!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A.N. Spring Break is almost upon me… which means midterms are happening right now. I'm CRAZY busy. I still am making time to write, usually in the evening after I get done studying, but I'm not sure how good the chapters are. **

**So I pose this question to you: would my faithful readers prefer chapters sooner and have them not be as good as I could make them, or wait until spring break so I can write some awesome chapters?**

**Just something to mull around in your head for a while. Lemme know in the review section!**

It was a work of art, truly.

The front of the house was positively disgusting. Using the deer carcass, they effectively turned the paneling into a horror house. There were deep gashes from their knives, blood spatter and smearing, and dirt caking much of the siding.

"It's beautiful," Beth said, wiping her filthy hands on the grass underneath her. Daryl gave her a look, much like the one from earlier. "It's a joke." He shrugged and headed toward the house. The sun had begun to dip low in the sky, and they were both hungry.

After cleaning up the blood that was in the front hall, Beth got started on dinner.

"Did you want me to attempt to cook that venison, Daryl?" she asked as he brought it up from the basement. By now, the refrigerator had had enough time to get cold, and last night while Daryl had been out, she had cleaned it out so it didn't smell putrid anymore. He put the deer meat in the freezer, but left one slab out.

"You're not grossed out by it?" he asked, setting it on the glass cutting board. Beth laughed.

"Of course not. Otis used to bring home deer all the time before y'all showed up at the farm." It had been a long time since Beth had thought on Patricia and Otis. The memories brought tears to her eyes, but she quickly wiped them away so Daryl wouldn't notice. She didn't want him thinking she was even weaker than he already did.

Beth busied herself with supper to take her mind off of the farm. There was a can of diced potatoes, and as she rifled through the cabinets, she found a shaker of rosemary and garlic. Perfect.

She diced the venison with a serrated knife, and put it in the hot sauté pan with the rosemary and some olive oil she'd found in the cabinet with the spices. As it browned, she threw a look over at Daryl, who was sitting at the table, looking over the map.

"How long until we're ready to leave here?" she asked conversationally, pushing the cubes of deer around the pan.

"We have another coupla days of gatherin' supplies, so maybe in a week."

"What are we gonna do with all the venison, if we're only gonna be here for a week?"

"It's salted up real nice. The last day before we leave I'll tan it an' turn whatever's left into jerky. It'll last for a good long while."

When the venison was nearly cooked, Beth added the diced potatoes, along with some pepper and the garlic. The fragrant rosemary filled her nostrils and she sighed contentedly. How nice it was to eat real, home cooked food again.

Daryl tried to concentrate on mapping out a route for them to take, but he found he couldn't do much of anything besides watch Beth flit around the kitchen in those godforsaken jeans that made her ass look like a peach while she hummed to herself.

Stop, Daryl. Quit yer starin'. It's not gonna do ya any good except… yep, that. He felt his pants tighten.

"Damn it," he muttered.

"What?" Beth asked. He spluttered for a minute, not knowing what to say.

"Oh, uh, nothin'. Was just thinkin'."

"What were you thinkin' about" she questioned innocently.

"That ain't your business, sweetheart." She looked visibly upset, but did not press the matter further. "What are you hummin'?" he asked, trying to take his mind off his hard-on.

"My sophomore year of high school, we had auditions to sing a solo in the choir concert… I beat out a bunch of seniors. I'm just hummin' the song I sang. It's a song from a Broadway show called 'Sunset Boulevard'." That, surprisingly, sparked recognition in his brain.

"That a movie, too?"

Beth nodded. "Yeah, but I've never seen it. I don't think they used any of the music."

"My momma use'ta watch those types o' shows when she was drinkin'. Merle use'ta make fun o' me fer watchin' with her, but momma liked the comp'ney."

She nodded and smiled smally.

"That food smells about done, sweetheart." Beth nodded and took it off the burner. The venison smelled outstanding married with the rosemary and garlic. She found two shallow bowls and spooned the meal into them before bringing them with forks over to the table.

Daryl was about to dig in when he felt her hand on his. She had her head bowed.

"Dear God, thank you for the day you've given us. Let this food be nourishing and give us the energy to head north. God, look after Maggie and Glenn and Judith, and all the others who are separated from us. Protect Daryl and me in the days to come. Amen."

"Uh, Amen," Daryl repeated slowly. They ate quietly for the first few minutes before Daryl couldn't take it any longer. "D'you really think the big man upstairs is still up there?"

Beth laughed. "Of course I do. God is God, he's not goin' nowhere."

"If God is still watchin' us, why is the world the way it is?" he retorted.

"Daryl, if God wasn't still watchin' over us, we'd be dead already. I know it's not easy to have faith, but this is His plan." she replied evenly. "I wish I had Daddy's Bible; it's probably burnt to a crisp at the prison by now…" He watched her absently rub her scar.

Daryl remembered that day, the day after Sophia came out of the barn… Beth had slit her wrist pretty bad, trying to kill herself. He remembered thinking she was the dumbest person he'd ever encountered. To her credit, since then, she'd fought hard to live.

There was just something about her, something that made him notice. She was pretty, sure. Shit, he'd go so far as to say she was beautiful (if he was in the habit of calling women beautiful, which he wasn't). But there was something else, something he couldn't explain.

He realized she was watching him watching her, and quickly looked down at his food.

"God brought me to you," she whispered so quietly, he wasn't sure he heard it right.

The sun was finally set, so they cleaned up the kitchen after dinner, and shut the lights out. They went upstairs into the back part of the house, where they could have the lights on without attracting scads of attention.

"I got to shower first last night; you go ahead tonight." Beth said with a smile. "I'm gonna go through the girl's room and pack up some clothes." Daryl nodded and went into the master bedroom, towel in hand. Beth, on the other hand, entered the girl's room and found a purple Prada suitcase under the full sized bed.

By the time Beth heard the water shut off, she had folded and packed five pairs of jeans, five long sleeved shirts, twice as many tanktops and teeshirts, a couple pairs of shorts, plus most of the socks and underwear she'd found. In the top drawer, under the socks, she had found an unopened box of condoms. They wouldn't expire for another six months.

Stealthily, Beth stowed them in the suitcase as well. As she was exiting the room, she noticed a bookshelf full of classics; the girl had excellent taste. She grabbed a handful of books and headed into the master suite with the suitcase. Daryl was, she assumed, in the closet getting changed, because there were wet footprints leading over into it.

"I'm taking mine now," she called, throwing the books on the bed and resting the suitcase against the wall.

When Beth exited the bathroom, towel wrapped tightly around her body, she found Daryl sitting up against the bed wearing sweatpants and another wife beater, reading one of the books she'd put on the bed. The spine read 'Of Mice and Men'.

"Always liked this one… sort of made me think o' me an' Merle." Beth suppressed a snort.

"Don't you think that's kinda messed up?" she asked. He looked up at her; he was wearing reading glasses. That made her lose her composure. It was too much.

"The hell you laughin' at?" he asked angrily. "The only thing that's messed up is that you're still standin' there in a towel that barely covers your ass!" She merely stuck her tongue out at him and flitted out of the room. She found the girl's pajama drawer, and after putting on a pair of nude cotton boyshorts, she pulled on a pair of yoga shorts and a floral camisole.

Beth returned, closing the door behind her. She tiptoed over to the bed and pulled the book she wanted from the pile.

"What'd you pick?" Daryl asked. She felt herself blush.

"It's called 'Lolita' by Vladimir Nabokov." She replied, her voice catching slightly in her throat.

"Never heard of it," he replied, to her relief. Her relief turned to ash in her mouth when he asked, "What's it about?"

"Well… it's about a man that marries a woman to… get closer with her daughter… who's a preteen."

Daryl appraised the book with judgment.

"It's a classic!" Beth explained hastily. "It got banned from school, but Daddy thought we all should be well read, and it's usually the banned ones that are the best." He just shook his head.

"Ain't nothin' 'classic' about likin' little girls," he said. Beth got the feeling he wasn't just talking about the novel.

She was getting really tired of all the awkward silence.


	7. Chapter 7

Beth had fallen asleep, book in hand. Daryl was unsure how long she'd been asleep, but eventually he tuned into her light breathing. Not wanting to go to bed yet, he stayed up reading 'Of Mice and Men'. Not many people knew he could read; granted, he'd only learned from sounding out the words on in the late notice letters his parents received when he was a kid.

He knew he probably did look strange with the glasses perched on his nose, but he wasn't going to strain his eyes to read the fine print when he had found a perfectly good pair of reading glasses on the nightstand.

Daryl couldn't admit to himself that the real reason he had yet to go to bed was to avoid the nightmares… and dreams of Beth's naked body, stretched in front of him.

The sun had set long ago, and now the only sounds that reached his ears were the rustling of the leaves in the ever cooling wind, the occasional hoot of an owl, and Beth's breathing.

Daryl had forced himself to keep his nose buried in his book after she'd come back wearing those little shorts, and, to his dismay, no bra. It was like she was teasing him on purpose. He made himself believe that he wasn't really attracted to her, that it was just because he hadn't been with a woman since the world fell, and he was just starved, so to speak.

As he read, he heard Beth begin whimpering softly behind him. Her breathing became ragged and, when he turned to look, her face was contorted in what looked like pain. Her mouth was agape, and her hair had fallen in front of her eyes as her whimpering grew louder. Daryl was unsure exactly what to do. It wasn't until she began to yelp loudly that he shook her awake.

It was as though he had electrocuted her.

Beth shot up into a sitting position, her blue eyes wide with terror. Her breathing was ragged still, but growing less erratic. She was shivering and didn't seem to be completely aware. She looked around the room, her hair tossing this way and that, before settling. She looked at Daryl, who had fallen on his bottom in surprise.

"Oh, Daryl, it was so awful!" she said in a broken whimper. Tears began to slide down her cheeks, which were pale and trembling. "It was Daddy… he—he was a walker, and he had Judith in his arms, he was eating her! Maggie and Glenn were at his feet, already dead and bloody and I—I…" she trailed off, unable to finish. Her whole body was soon wracked with sobs.

"Don' cry, sweetheart," Daryl said, trying to sound comforting. "S'just a dream, s'not real." She hiccupped.

"I used to get real bad dreams when I was in the prison… Maggie would always hear me cryin' and leave Glenn to stay with me. She'd wrap her arms around me and squeeze tight; the pressure helped me feel safe." she said through her tears.

"D'you… d'you want me to…" he trailed off, totally at a loss. Beth didn't speak for a minute.

"No… I mean, you don't have to… No, don't worry about it. I'll be just fine." she said finally. Daryl shook his head and stood up.

"Nah, I don't feel like hearing you scream in your sleep again." Daryl shut the light out before climbing up onto the bed beside Beth. He opened his arms, and she scooted into them, crossing her own in front of her chest. The feeling of her ass pressed against Daryl's cock was unexpected, and it was everything he could do not to get hard.

He thought of everything else to take his mind off of it; dead animals, walkers, the feeling of his father's belt on his back… that particular memory quelled any sexual feelings he had. Without disturbing their position, Daryl reached over and covered them both with the comforter.

"You're safe, sweetheart. Ain't nothin' gonna getcha while I'm here," he said resolutely.

"Thank you, Daryl," she breathed quietly before succumbing to sleep. Her soft, small body seemed to fit perfectly in his, and her warmth was just as comforting as, he was sure, his arms around her torso were. He found he could get used to this.

Daryl's last thoughts before he too fell asleep was that, for the first time in a very long time, he felt content.

Beth awoke, her head groggy and swimming. She felt as though she'd been drinking moonshine again. Her mouth was dry. She was otherwise comfortable, except for the book that was pressed against her rear end. She attempted to move her hand to remove the book, and that's when she remembered.

Daryl's strong arms were wrapped around her, shielding her from her nightmares. And that wasn't a book poking into her bum…

Beth felt her face go red as she tried to shift away. Daryl stirred behind her and she swore under her breath. She didn't want him to wake up and realize their predicament, but his arms were so damn strong. The only way she was squirming out of his grip was if he woke up.

So she laid there for several minutes, until she had the urge to use the restroom. As gently as she could, Beth began trying to pry his arms from her torso.

One second she was close to inching her way out of his grip, and the next…

He was completely on top of her, his hands at her throat.

"Daryl!" she gasped, tears in her eyes as she struggled to catch her breath. He didn't seem to be fully aware; Beth got the impression he was still asleep. She swung her hand up and smacked him across the face with all the strength she could muster.

It worked. He blinked several times, and looked down at Beth before she saw comprehension dawn on his features. Daryl moved faster than she'd ever seen him move, out the bedroom door and out of her line of sight.

"Hey!" she called after him. "What the hell, Daryl?!" No answer. Beth leapt up and chased after him.

"What the hell was that?" Her throat was sore, and her words were raspy. Daryl was already down the stairs and pulling on his boots. "Don't you dare run away from me!"

"What do you want me to say, little girl?! I ain't got nothin' to say to you." he replied angrily. "I'm goin' for a run. You stay here."

"What the hell am I supposed to do here, by myself?"

"Christ, I dunno. Somethin' domestic!" Before Beth could retort to his misogynistic comment, he was out the door, slamming it loudly behind him. A painting near the door fell and the glass shattered upon impact.

The next several days were the definition of tense. Beth and Daryl spoke hardly a word to each other. She continued to have nightmares, but Daryl did not come to her aid again. Sometimes, she would catch him glaring at her, but she ignored it. She made lunch and dinner with the venison, but ate upstairs. She had no desire to be anywhere near him.

He had yet to apologize for nearly choking her to death, and frankly, Beth wasn't sure she'd accept the apology now. Why, oh why did she have to be stuck with Daryl Dixon?

So Beth had spent her time packing everything they would need. On his solo runs, Daryl had found the majority of supplies they needed, including several full containers of fuel. She was grateful he'd been able to find everything they needed, but refused to express her gratitude to him.

In the end, she'd packed over six suitcases, and one cooler she'd found rifling through the basement. Two for clothing (one his, one hers), two for sheets and towels and other such things, one for all the dry and canned food they'd accumulated plus utensils, and one for soap. Yes, Beth had filled an entire suitcase with soap and various other toiletries, including the ever important toilet paper.

When Daryl had seen all six suitcases, she could tell he was simmering mad. She knew he would have opted to just bring a pack full of basics. This increased the tension between them.

The cooler contained saran wrapped venison, as well as jugs of water Beth had frozen. Along the way, they'd be able to keep fresh kills in it. Winter was still several months away down south, but up north it was probably already snowing. When the jugs thawed, they'd be able to refreeze them overnight outside.

Beth felt as prepared as ever, and the night before, she'd had a difficult time falling asleep. When she finally settled down and fell asleep, she was restless, nightmares plaguing her mind. In the morning, she felt increasingly on edge and tense.

After showering for what could potentially be the last time in a long time, she did a triple check of the house and supplies, making sure she'd remembered absolutely everything. She had filled a camping pack with a few books from the girl's shelf, as well as the honeysuckle body mist, a few pairs of socks, a change of clothes, and a brush. She didn't want to have to dig through her meticulous packing to get things she'd potentially need while on the road.

The box of condoms caught Beth's eye; she'd angrily unpacked them after that morning he had nearly killed her, but now thinking on it, who knows if she'd ever need them if she met another survivor? She stuck them in the front pocket of the pack, and headed downstairs.

Daryl was downstairs in the garage, loading up the SUV. Beth caught his eye as she put her pack and a pillow in the passenger side of the vehicle, and quickly looked away.

"Didja have to pack so damn much?" Daryl asked, his tone accusatory.

"You might be able to get by with the clothes on your back and that stupid crossbow, but I can't!" she replied heatedly.

"This 'stupid' crossbow has saved yer life more times'n I can count!" he shot back. Beth flipped him off.

"You didn't bother to teach me how to defend myself, so I'm stuck relyin' on you!" She turned around and began to storm back into the house.

"I wouldn't waste my time tryin'a teach ya, since nothin' would stick, little girl!" That did it. She charged up to him and pushed him.

"I ain't a little girl! Call me that one more time and see what happens!" Daryl narrowed his eyes.

"Little girl." Her hand flew up to slap him, but he caught it easily and pushed her into the side of the car.

Suddenly, his lips were crushing hers. She was pinned between the car and his body, her hands above her head being held up by his. His stubble scratched her face, but she kissed back fiercely.

It was like nothing she'd ever felt before; sure, she'd made out with other boys, but that was just it. They were boys. Daryl was a man, and actually knew what he was doing. He was sucking on her bottom lip, and then he was biting, and then suckling again to dull the pain of the bite. Beth felt dizzy, more intoxicated than she'd ever been.

She could feel his tongue in her mouth, minty from toothpaste. The kiss was harsh, and probing, and she relished every second of it.

But then, just as quickly as it had begun, he was backing away. Beth didn't follow him, didn't call after him.

She slowly slipped down the side of the vehicle and tried to catch her breath.

"Wow," was all she could muster.

**Wow is right. A lot just happened. What will happen next? Y'all have to review some more to find out!**

**Thanks to all who HAVE reviewed; my fic is almost up to 3000 views, and it's 3 days old. You guys rock.**


	8. Chapter 8

Daryl thought very seriously about impaling himself on his own arrows.

What was he thinking? How could he have just… just kissed her like that? She had been mad at him (he'd been mad too, but that was irrelevant), and he'd just insulted her. Why on earth did he think it would be a good idea to kiss her?

But she had kissed back, hadn't she? Daryl couldn't even remember anymore.

He was at a total loss. He'd never live it down. Hence the idea to impale himself.

While stewing in the house, his eyes scanned over the leather jackets Beth had found on their first day. The first was atrocious; a structured jacket with horrible lining and a skull on the back. Probably from the man's glory days. The second, though, wasn't terrible. It was suppler than the other, and had a reddish tint to it. Daryl, in an attempt to get his mind off his irrevocably stupid actions, slipped it on.

To his surprise, it was a perfect fit. No sense leaving it when it was certainly a useful article of clothing.

After several minutes of pacing in the hallway, Daryl stopped and chastised himself.

"Dixons ain't scared of nothin'," he said. "Jus' go out there and act normal."

That was when Beth yelped. He ran back into the garage, only to see her on the floor with a dead walker on top of her, her knife imbedded in its brain. He quickly went and pulled it off of her. She was shaking slightly, but when given her blade back, she wiped it on her jeans and sheathed it.

"It just snuck up on me. Didn't even hear it rasping until its hand was on my shoulder." Beth shuddered with disgust. "I'll be right back… gonna go change." Daryl didn't even protest that they had a schedule to keep. He simply walked over to the driver's seat and sat down in it.

A few minutes later Beth returned in a new pair of jeans and a ¾ sleeve floral shirt which dipped low, exposing her cleavage. She was going to be the death of him, he just knew it. She hopped in the passenger side and buckled herself in.

"If you don't buckle yours, the car will start beeping." she said in a matter-of-fact tone. Daryl continued to say nothing, but turned the key in the ignition. As he pulled out of the garage, he saw from the corner of his eye Beth pressing her fingers to her lips, a small smile revealing her dimples.

Not five hundred feet later, the car began to beep. Daryl swore loudly and gave in, buckling the belt in.

The first day of driving proved to be exceedingly awkward. Beth had insisted on listening to a cd she'd found in the girl's room, and it was driving Daryl insane. He wasn't sure what a 'Rapunzel' was, and after two tracks, he didn't care.

"Ain't there anything you'd rather listen to?" he asked, his voice strained with irritation.

"Nope," she quipped, a snarky smile plastered on her face. "I've got a dream, I've got a dream! I just want to see the floating lanterns gleam!"

He simmered moodily and resigned himself to silent driving.

Beth had been doing everything she possibly could to get under Daryl's skin, he just knew it. She was being intentionally annoying. They'd been on the road for an hour or so, but their progress was akin to half that time.

More than once did they have to clear abandoned vehicles off the road, and, if they could risk it without attracting walkers, siphoned fuel. They were following a highway system Daryl wasn't familiar with, but the road map he'd found had been helpful thus far.

After the album had looped four times, Daryl had had enough. Angrily, he ejected the disk and snapped it in half before Beth had a chance to protest.

"Hey!" she cried as he chucked the pieces out of the window. "You've got to be kidding me—that could have been the last 'Tangled' cd in existence! It's not like we can go find zombie Mandy Moore and ask her to rerecord it!"

"Who?" Daryl asked, but then shook his head. "Nevermind. Don't matter. Tha' music's givin' me a headache."

"Good," he swore he heard her say under her breath. Then, without skipping a beat, she was opening another cd case and shoving the disc into the player. "This is mellower… sort of."

If be mellower she meant even more annoying, then she was right. Daryl didn't understand how anyone could listen to this music. As they drove, try as he might to tune it out, he unfortunately was now aware of a man named John who went to jail for nineteen years, all for stealing a loaf of bread or something to feed his sister's son.

It actually made him think about Merle.

The bastard had faults, sure. More faults than most, even. But he was a Dixon, and he'd looked out for Daryl, even when times were tough. That day he found his brother meandering around dead bodies as a corpse himself, was the day he never thought would come.

That day broke him.

Not that Daryl would ever fully admit that to anyone. He blinked rapidly to quell the tears which threatened to pour.

Dixon's didn't cry.

Beth sang along happily to the 'Les Mis' soundtrack, even more delighted to see it was annoying Daryl. She felt like a petulant small child, resorting to annoyance to get his attention, but as the minutes dragged on she could feel the tension in the car thicken until she was certain she could cut through it with a butter knife.

After another hour or so of travelling, their path was completely blocked by several cars strewn along the road.

"Shit," Daryl swore, pressing the brake pedal. Beth, who had taken her shoes off earlier and set her feet on the dash to irritate him, laced them back up in preparation. They got out of the vehicle simultaneously, knives unsheathed and at the ready. The first few cars were empty and easy to move. The last held a walker, constrained by its seatbelt. The airbag was deployed; Beth wondered if the impact didn't break this poor person's neck. She jammed her knife through its skull, and it immediately unanimated. Once they had moved the last car from their path, they got back in the SUV and continued on their way.

Beth guessed they were halfway through Tennessee by the time the sun began its descent. As they kept their eyes peeled for a secure place to stay the night, Beth had a thought.

"You know what's odd to think about?" she asked Daryl as a song she wasn't terribly fond of turned on. He didn't answer, and she didn't expect him to. "Probably all of these people on this soundtrack are either dead or walkers. Brad Pitt is probably a walker. So is Bill Murray and Morgan Freeman and Sandra Bullock and— "

"An' your daddy, and Rick and Carl. Little Asskicker's probably dead," Daryl cut her off viciously. Beth felt as though she'd been sucker punched. All the air ripped from her lungs, and her eyes watering violently. It was the most intentionally hurtful thing he'd ever said to her.

Beth ejected the disc and put it back in its case before picking her knees up and wrapping her arms around them tightly. She turned her head to the side, trying desperately not to let him see her cry.

The car was silent for several minutes before Daryl finally spoke up.

"Are you cryin'? Shit, I'm sorry." he said gruffly. "That was an awful thing for me to say."

"'S true though." Her voice was thick.

"Ain't nobody that made it out of that prison alive is gonna be a walker. They ain't gonna die, at all."

"Daddy did." Beth's voice cracked. "If Rick hadn't made y'all wait to fire, my daddy might still be alive, and we might still be at the prison, like it used to be."

"Sweetheart, lemme let you in on a little secret. If Rick had been anything less than what he was, we'd all be walkin' corpses. Without him, we wouldn'ta stood no chance." Daryl said firmly.

Beth wiped her eyes on her sleeve, sniffling slightly. "I s'pose… hey, that place looks abandoned to me." She pointed toward an old bard a couple dozen yards from the highway. "Can we drive this all the way over there?"

"That's what this baby's built for, sweetheart."

Ten minutes later they were nearing the barn. It was around the size of the barn on the farm, so it likely had a loft for hay as well. She crossed her fingers and prayed it wasn't being used for the same thing.

"I'm going to clear it; you drive in when I give you the all clear." Beth nodded, her thoughts still on her father. He got out of the car and she scooted herself over into the driver's seat, palm resting lightly on the gear shifter, which was currently residing in neutral.

Daryl wrenched the door open, knife at the ready, and without warning, six or seven walkers barreled out of the barn, their hands outstretched and groping and their jaws snapping. Beth jumped in her seat, startled. Daryl easily took out the first two, but then the others were all around him. Beth pulled the emergency break up and jumped from the vehicle, unbuckling her knife from its sheath.

They had yet to become aware of her presence in their frenzied state, and she was able to get one in the back of its decaying head before they smelled her.

"I told you to stay in the car!" Daryl hissed as his blade sank into another brain. It splattered Daryl with walker goo.

Before Beth could reply, one of the bigger walkers was lumbering toward her. Daryl was still fighting to putdown the other two. It came within range of her swing, but she missed the head, instead squelching the knife into the soft flesh of its neck. The walker was completely unfazed, and she couldn't unstick her knife. It lumbered forward and she tripped backward on a stick, sending her crashing to the ground.

The walker's teeth were nearly at her throat by the time Daryl was able to dig his knife into its skull. It exited through the walker's forehead, the sharp tip a centimeter away from Beth's nose. She sucked in breath.

"That was close," he said, pulling Beth up off the ground. She could only nod shakily, pressing her boot on the dead walker's head to remove her knife. She turned to thank him and found his shirt sleeve torn and bloody.

"Are you alright?" she asked, her voice hitching in concern. Daryl nodded.

"'S nothin'. Ol' tractor blade in the grass, cut me open when they had me surrounded an' I fell."

"Let's get the car in and I'll take a look at it."

"I'll be fine, sweetheart."

"People have died from less," she reminded him. "Daddy taught me how to suture; it might need stitches." Daryl blanched, and Beth sniggered.

Once the pair were inside the barn, Daryl padlocked the doors shut from the inside, just in case other survivors tried to make their way in. Beth hoped the locked doors would send them away.

She had been right about the loft; there were stacks of hay on either side. What was more, it looked as though someone had been living up there. From the ground, Beth was sure she could spot a bed frame. There was even a sturdy looking ladder and a pulley system beside it.

Beth scurried up the ladder and received the cooler and their food for the evening, plus their packs and, with Beth's insistence, a sheet set and pillows for the bed. There was no way she was sleeping on that bed without clean sheets. Maybe that made her picky, but so be it.

She watched as Daryl locked all the doors in the vehicle and made his way up the ladder as well.

"First thing's first," she said once he was sitting on the hay. "Take off your shirt."

"What?" Daryl asked. Beth rolled her eyes.

"If you leave it on, the sleeve is just gonna get in the way." Daryl reached around and tore the sleeve clean off. "That works too, I guess." Beth sat beside him, first aid kit on her lap. She looked at the wound; it wasn't terribly deep, but it needed cleaning and binding. Beth pulled the rubbing alcohol from the kit and poured some on a cotton swab.

"This is gonna hurt," she told him.

"Jus' do it. I ain't no pussy when it comes to pain." Beth shrugged and began swabbing the wound. He didn't even flinch, even though she was certain it burned. The silence as she cleaned the cut made her feel uncomfortable, and she wasn't certain why.

"Who do you miss most?" she asked quietly. "Carol? Michonne? Weren't you too… close?"

Daryl snorted. "Michonne is one closed off bitch. We was never more than friends." He looked at Beth, stared right in her eyes. "I miss your daddy most. He was the only one who ever talked sense a hundred percent of the time."

"You miss Merle, too, right? That's what you said at the moonshine house."

"You was drunk, you don't remember none of that." Daryl argued.

"I remember everything." she informed him. He looked down sheepishly. "It doesn't matter, Daryl."

He said nothing as she wrapped his arm with gauze.

"There. You'll be just fine. No stitches."

"Toldja." She stuck her tongue out at him. "Ain't it time for grub?"

"Sure. We probably shouldn't light a fire up here though." Daryl nodded in agreement.

After dinner, they stomped the fire they'd created out. The sun was nearly set, so they lit the few lanterns that they had, and Beth stripped the bed of its old sheets before remaking the bed.

"There's room enough for us both," she told him.

"Nah, the hay's fine."

"Daryl, I'm not letting you sleep on the hay." She tried her best to make her tone as final as she could. "Besides, it's gonna get cold up here; the extra body heat will keep us warm."

That was how Daryl found himself pressed up against Beth's backside, which was grinding up against him as she tried to get comfortable. This was going to be a long night.

**This chapter was really difficult to write... I tried making it extra long for you guys, and I'm not so sure how it turned out. It's meant to be a transition chapter, because the next one contains the lemonade. ;)**

**Anyway, keep reviewing. You have no clue how much your reviews encourage me to keep on writing. Huge thanks to everyone that has told me how much they like it!**


	9. Chapter 9

"I can't sleep." Beth whispered into the darkness. Daryl had been on the precipice between awake and asleep, and her voice had dragged him back awake. His eyes were still adjusting.

"Jus' try harder," he grumbled.

"I don't want to sleep." she restated, turning her head to look at him. "I don't want to have another nightmare, Daryl. I'm tired of seein' my daddy as a walker. I'm tired of seein' Maggie and Glenn dead. Tired of watchin' walkers get you."

"You dream 'bout me?"

"I'm scared of you leaving me…" she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I ain't goin' anywhere, sweetheart. I ain't leavin' you alone." he promised.

"Daryl?"

"Yeah?"

"Why did you kiss me this morning?" Shit. He'd been waiting for this, and hoping she wouldn't ask. He didn't reply. "Would you… kiss me again?" Now that surprised him.

"Beth, you don't know what you're sayin'." he said, sitting up. His eyes were finally completely adjusted. "You're just a kid. I got ten years on you."

Now it was Beth's turn to sit up.

"I'm not just a kid. I told you before, I'm almost nineteen. And in this hell, nobody's just a kid, even if they wanna be." She put her hand on his arm, and he flinched it away. "Look, you're annoying as hell, and a little rough around the edges. But you have a good heart, and you've been keeping me safe. I'm not saying I'm in love with you or anything crazy like that. When you kissed me, I've never felt anything like that in my whole life. It doesn't have to mean anything; but… I need you to be more than my protector."

Daryl was speechless.

"So please… kiss me?" He hesitated. "Please?" Her eyes shone even in the darkness, and Daryl found himself leaning in until his lips found hers.

This wasn't like their first kiss. It wasn't harsh and demanding. Rather, he was tender and gentle, as if she might break in his arms if he wasn't careful. She tasted sweet, which completely baffled him since they'd finished the pie filling before leaving in the SUV. It was borderline intoxicating.

His head was still screaming at him to stop, but for once, he shut it off and just felt. He felt her hands on his chest. He felt her move closer to him. He felt her body heat radiating. He felt his cock twitch with anticipation.

He guided her into his lap, wrapping his arms around Beth's waist, keeping her firmly in place as his tongue swept over her bottom lip. She moaned softly, and the sound went straight to his manhood. Beth's fingers found the hem of his shirt and slowly began pulling it off of him.

"If mine goes, yours goes with it," he told her huskily as she yanked it totally off.

"Go for it," she whispered back, gesturing to it. He slipped it off her in a flash, and sucked in breath at the sight of her half naked in front of him. He swore it was even better than his dreams, and he hadn't even taken her bra (a teasingly sexy black lace thing, a beautiful juxtaposition of her milky white skin) off yet.

But Daryl wanted to go at a pace comfortable for Beth, and wouldn't push her any farther than she wanted to go. His mouth was back on hers, kissing deeper than before. He was rusty; it'd been so long since he'd kissed anyone.

He felt her swing her leg over so that she was straddling him, her hands on his shoulders to steady herself. They were cold, but he barely noticed as she rotated her hips on top of him. It was all he could do to stop himself from tearing their clothes to bits and taking her right then.

"You doin' that on purpose, sweetheart?" he asked. She looked at him quizzically.

"Doin' what?" Daryl groaned. Beth was so completely unaware of what her body was doing to him, so innocent to how she was driving him mad with want.

"Nothin'." He went to kiss her once more but she stopped him.

"Am I doing somethin' wrong?" she asked, her voice laced with concern and embarrassment.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, no!" he exclaimed. "You're jus' perfect, tha's all."

Beth snorted. "You're just sayin' that."

Daryl shook his head before placing his lips at the base of her throat, suckling softly.

"Hnnnn," she sighed, as he trailed down her cleavage. "D'you wanna take my bra off, or should I do it myself?"

"You ever gone this far with anyone, sweetheart?" he probed. She shook her head.

"Never wanted to before now…" He reached around and unhooked the bra and let the straps slide down her shoulders. She tossed it off the bed.

Daryl swore as he looked at her. Far better than his dreams, he thought as he swept his thumb over her nipple, causing her to shudder. He leaned in and took it into his mouth, his tongue grazing over it. He relished each and every moan that slipped from her lips.

"Oh, my gosh," she said, digging her nails into his skin as he greeted her other breast. Daryl couldn't imagine anything on this earth sweeter than the feeling of her perky breast in his mouth. "Daryl, that feels amazin'."

Encouraged by her words, he lifted Beth up and laid her down on the bed, his fingers hooked into the waistband of her pants, swiftly pulling them down her legs and in a pile on the ground. Then he proceeded to ghost his hands over her tummy, so very flat and taut as she lay on the bed. He took that moment to watch her expression; she was staring at him, mouth slightly ajar and smiling at him.

"I wanna try somethin'." he said, slipping his fingers into the delicate lace waist of her panties (which matched the bra, much to Daryl's arousal). "I ain't never done this before."

"Done what, Daryl?" she asked. He gauged her expression as he answered.

"Gone down on a woman before."

Beth smirked. "So you finally admit I'm a woman."

"That's all you got to say, sweetheart?" Daryl asked, shaking his head.

"Were you lookin' for permission?" Beth questioned. "If you really need permission: go ahead."

Without another word, Daryl dragged her panties down her legs before running his hands back up them. They were so soft, so smooth against his calloused hands. Carefully, he dragged her down to the edge of the mattress, sitting on his knees as he placed kisses along her inner thigh. The sight of her netherlips, already slick for him, caused his cock to completely harden.

He brought his hand up and pushed one single digit into her tightness, savoring the gasp and subsequent moan of pleasure from Beth.

"You're a sight for sore eyes, sweetheart," he murmured into her thigh as he began to move his finger, slipping it out and then back in, slowly, teasingly.

"Daryl, don't ever stop, please," Beth's voice was hitched and high pitched. He watched as her chest rose and fell, those perfect breasts along with it. If he loved the sounds she was already making, those were nothing compared to when he finally kissed her, in her most private of places.

Beth couldn't believe this was actually happening. She had never felt more comfortable around any man before, and here she was, completely naked and spread for Daryl Dixon. It was the most exhilarating thing she could ever imagine.

Of course, she'd touched herself before, but even orgasms she'd brought about herself didn't compare to the feeling of just being touched by Daryl. And then, sweet Jesus, when he ran his tongue up her slit, she thought she would burst with pleasure.

"Oh, Daryl," she moaned, her toes curling. His mouth focused on her bundle of nerves, so sensitive and raw. She felt Daryl flick his tongue out on it as he pressed a second finger inside her. She felt a familiar sensation running through her body. "So close… I'm gonna—" Beth didn't have time to finish, because she finished.

Her forehead was beaded with sweat, despite the temperature of the air. She watched and whimpered as he licked his fingers clean of her wetness. He crawled back up the length of her body and kissed her deeply, letting her taste herself on her tongue. She felt as though she may die in delight.

Beth could feel his hard member against her lower stomach, straining against the confines of his jeans. She trailed her hands timidly down his chest and toned, glorious abs, until she found the button. She was about to undo it when she felt his hand over hers, stopping her.

"Just wait, sweetheart." he said kissing her forehead and propping himself up on his arm beside her. "Don't go getting' ahead of yourself. You don' wanna rush into somethin' like that. You should wait 'til it means somethin' to ya."

Beth rolled onto her side and looked him right in the eyes.

"It does mean somethin' to me, Daryl. I would've never even asked you to kiss me if it didn't." He didn't reply, only broke her gaze and stared out into the vast darkness of the barn. "I understand if you don't wanna… I'm not experienced in anything, an' it probably wouldn't be any good anyhow." She turned and pulled the sheets over her naked body.

"What in the world gave you the idea tha' I don' want to?" Daryl articulated the last two words, putting his hand on Beth hip and rolling her back over onto her back. "Sweetheart, I want to. What I don't want is makin' love to you and then havin' you regret it in the mornin' when you come to your senses about me."

"I'm not gonna regret anything, and I'm not changing my mind about you. Damn it, Daryl Dixon, you're stuck with my affection. It isn't goin' anywhere." she told him adamantly. He leaned down and kissed her again.

"I ain't leavin' you, neither. Promise," Daryl replied in her ear. She beamed.

"Good. Now, take off your pants. You're overdressed." Beth could hardly believe she was being so bold; the prospect of sex did incredible things. And he'd called it making love. It was more than sex for him, too. Once Daryl had removed his pants and boxers, she glanced down. He was huge. Beth supposed she hadn't expected anything less, but her imagination could not have prepared her for this.

"Wow," she said, feeling her cheeks turn red. To quell her embarrassment, Daryl kissed her softly on the lips. She was unsure what exactly to do, so Daryl, seemingly sensing that, guided her hand down to wrap around his member. He groaned when her fingers connected, and swore when she began to move her hand up and down slowly.

"You have no idea how good that feels, sweetheart," he said. She giggled.

"Actually, I'm pretty sure I do," she reminded him. He chuckled as well, and then inhaled sharply as she swept her thumb over his head. He reached down and removed her hand from around him, leaving Beth once again looking quizzically at him.

"Don't wanna come undone just yet… Beth, I don't have nothin' by means of… protection." Daryl told her. Beth's cheeks grew hot once more.

"Well, um, I… do." she admitted, swinging her legs off the bed and gliding over to her backpack, where she began to rummage through it before pulling the box from the front pocket.

"Why do you have those, sweetheart?" he questioned as she sauntered back over to the bed.

"Just in case," she responded simply, handing it to Daryl. "Found them in the top drawer in the girl's room."

"I ain't complainin'," he told her as he pulled one from the box and tearing it open. Beth looked away, still mildly embarrassed, as he rolled it onto his member.

Daryl put his hands on her waist and pulled her close to him. He layed her down on the bed before positioning himself on top of her. She could feel him pressing against her thigh, hard and ready.

"It's probably gonna hurt, sweetheart," he told her. Beth nodded. She held her breath as he slowly guided himself inside her. She gasped as he stretched her, inch by inch, until she felt full. There was pain, but it eventually dissipated into unfathomable pleasure. He didn't move again until Beth nodded her head. She placed her hands on his shoulders, bracing herself as he pulled out, and then back in. The pace was slow, almost tortuously so, but if he went any faster, Beth knew it would be too much. She was grateful for his self-control; a lesser man wouldn't have been able to contain himself, she thought.

And he wasn't fucking her. He was making love to her. Daryl was her salvation. Without him, she'd be dead many times over. But he hadn't just saved her life… he'd saved her humanity. She'd never have been able to cope with watching her daddy die, and being separated from Maggie and Judith without him. She needed him, and Beth suspected he needed her too.

"You can go a little faster, Daryl," she whispered. Instead, Beth found herself straddling him, their positions flipped before she'd had a chance to process it. He was so quick. "I—I need a little help."

Daryl's hands secured to her hips, and lifted her up and down with relative ease. This new angle made Beth see stars, and soon she was moving on her own, impaling herself over and over again on his hard cock. It didn't take long for her to come undone once more, with Daryl following soon after. Their moans mixed with each other's, and Beth collapsed on his chest, feeling his heart beat wildly.

"Shit, sweetheart," he said, still panting. "That was incredible." Beth could only nod in response. After a minute of rest, he helped her untangle herself from him. He slipped the condom off and let it fall off the side of the bed. Daryl pulled his boxers back on before dragging Beth's still naked body into his and covering them with the sheets.

"Toldja sleeping together would help keep us warm," she teased, yawning.

"Go to sleep, Beth. I'm here; you're safe. No nightmare is gonna scare you again." he whispered in her ear. She sighed and felt sleep's hold pull her from consciousness.

Before she fell asleep, Beth was certain she heard Daryl murmur, "Shit, I think I love you."

**HOLY SHEEEEEEEEEET! I can't even believe I got through that whole chapter. I hope it's everything you guys have been waiting for… I sort of realized, since I've never actually had sex before, I'd be useless writing smut. I thought very seriously about changing this to a T rating and hiding in shame, but then I remembered all my lovelies that have been reading and reviewing, and I just didn't want to let you down.**

**PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE tell me what you think in the form of a review. I don't know if I'll be able to update in the next few days because I'll be super busy doing stuff irl, so give me a present of (double the amount of) reviews for when I update again Monday night?**

**Thankyouguysallsomuch!**


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